


Ev'rybody Wants to Be a Cat

by Moonheart13



Series: Alternate Universes [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Cat!Damien, Dog!Pip, Fluff, M/M, strong implications of sex but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-04 09:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonheart13/pseuds/Moonheart13
Summary: In which a certain black cat puts his plan into action, whether his owner likes it or not.





	1. Chapter 1

Cats are highly observant creatures. At least, that’s what Damien had convinced himself he was, considering how often he watched the world around him.

The cat perched on the back of the couch, staring out the window at the mechanical monsters his master referred to as “cars”. His master was currently lazing on the couch, scribbling something on a sketchpad, brow furrowed in concentration. Normally, Damien would have hopped over to curl next to him and take a nice long nap.

Not today.

Today needed to be a day of action.

Damien normally would never meddle in his master’s affairs. While they had their companionship, they both needed their space at times. Their agreement was very simple, actually. Christophe, his master’s name, gave him food and treats as well as a warm home, and in return, Damien was there to give Christophe cuddles and to be an excuse for him to get out of annoying social events. From claiming he needed to feed him to vet appointments, Christophe had plenty of excuses.

Unfortunately, Damien had to break their arrangement today. He didn’t want to, but it needed to be done. If he didn’t, his master would be alone. Forever.

For the past few weeks, he had sat here, watching people in the streets. A mate for his master.

He wouldn’t just push him with anyone. They had to be the best. His master had done so much for him. From the day he took him from that house, Christophe had been the one constant in his life.

Damien had been the runt of a rather large litter. And no one had wanted him. First, he was a black cat, so the suspicious people quickly passed over him. Second, his eyes were a bizarre red color, making many believe he had a medical problem, even though he was very healthy for a cat. And lastly, even as a kitten with his eyes barely open, he made people…unnerved.

Except Christophe.

He had walked in with a friend. A young man with hair as black as his own and a pale complexion. Later, he learned this human’s name to be Michael, who owned a black rabbit named Henrietta that Damien held a polite friendship with.

Apparently, Michael had encouraged him to get a companion. This occurred after one of Christophe’s drunken fits (they were occurring much more frequently now), he’d crumpled in a heap, sobbing into Michael’s shoulder that he was truly lonely.

Damien remembered the day they met. He’d stared straight at the human, dull green eyes boring into his red ones. For a long while, they stared at each other as the breeder, a stuttering young man attempting to try to sell him the last kitten.

Less than an hour later, he was curled up in Christophe’s lap in Michael’s car and they’d been inseparable ever since the day.

Which brought Damien to his current mission to help his master. Now, wasn’t it about that time…?

There.

Damien could see him. He’d been watching him for some time. His slightly curled blond hair and perfect posture.

And the dog.

Damien wasn’t terribly happy about that last one and he knew Christophe wouldn’t like it either. Both he and his master were not fond of those slobbering fools. Still, at least the creature looked friendly and well-behaved, based on how he obeyed the blond man’s every command.

No matter how apprehensive the dog made him, Damien had a strong feeling this man would be the best match for his mate. He looked like Christophe’s complete opposite. Yet, he was an animal person.

Plus, he and his master lived in a small town with very little good choices.

This man would be a good influence on his master. Clean. Charming, based on how people reacted to him. A good owner as well. He never tugged on the dog’s leash and never raised his voice too much.

Damien darted from the couch, hopping directly into his lap, startling his master.

“Whoa,” Christophe muttered out, a hand pressing into his furry backside, “Petite demon, I’ve fed you al—”

Damien leapt from his lap as quickly as he’d jumped into it. He made a dash for the coat-rack, holding only his master’s faded green coat and his own red leash, matching his collar. The cat leaned up against it, lightly scratching his claws against the wood.

“…you want to walk?”

Success! Such a smart owner he had! Damien meowed with encouragement, pacing in front of the door.

“Non, non,” Christophe murmured, shaking his head as he got back in place with his sketchpad. “It’s too cold out. We will walk tomorrow, maybe.”

No. Unacceptable. The blond man only came through here twice a week. He wasn’t going to wait any longer to put this plan into motion.

Damien hissed loudly, his ears flattening. Christophe looked confused, brow furrowing at his cat. After all, Damien did not hiss at him. Never.

“…Damien?”

The cat reached up, scratching at the door this time. His red eyes locked on Christophe, pleading and meowing more.

The Frenchman sighed as he stood up. “Alright, alright. You are full of piss and vinegar today, apparently. A walk will do you good.” He snatched the leash off the rack, clicking it onto Damien’s collar, much to the cat’s joy.

Yes, his plan was working!

He watched Christophe shrug his coat on, muttering, “The things I do for zis stupid feline…”

Soon, they were in the hallway of Christophe’s apartment building, Damien enthusiastically dragging him to the elevator.

“Jesus, petite demon, you really want to run, oui?” Christophe commented, getting them into the elevator.

Damien’s tail swished back and forth anxiously, hoping they hadn’t missed the pair. The moment the door’s opened, Damien flew through them, Christophe letting out a yell of, “Damien, slow down! Shit!”

The cat wasn’t stopping. He flew out of the front door, eyes darting all along the street. Where? Where? Whe—

There.

They were a little far away, but still within Damien’s line of vision. The dog was busy sniffing at an empty hot dog wrapped, his owner lightly tugging on his leash to get his attention so they could move on.

Suddenly, Christophe was tugging him in the opposite direction.

“Alright, alright, we’ll take a walk around and—”

Damien tugged hard, forcing Christophe to turn back around, letting out an angry meow. Christophe looked down and gave another, long suffering sigh. “You are so fucking spoiled.”

Fine. Call him spoiled. Just go.

The pair was walking again. They were going to lose them! Damien tugged again, trying to move forward.

“Jesus Christ,” Christophe growled before finally moving in the right direction. “Do you have cabin fever or some shit?”

Damien didn’t even try to give him any kind of answer. He had to keep moving. Where was the pair going now?

The park. Perfect.

 ***

Upon arrival at the park, Damien noticed the blond guy. He was seated on a bench, reading, his dog sitting next to him, happily panting.

Now came the complex part. Damien knew Christophe wouldn’t do a thing. He looked up at his owner, watching as he lit a cigarette, exhaling with a relaxed sigh.

Damien puffed out his chest, trotting forward. He led Christophe to the willow tree they often sat near when they came here. He glanced back at the pair.

Hmm…the man seemed intensely focused on his reading. The dog, however, was staring straight at Christophe and Damien. For a moment, Damien feared they had made a mistake. Would the dog attack them? Bark at him and force them into a chase?

Then, he looked more closely at the wagging tail. The dog blinked happily, as if he were smiling. He made no move to do much of anything, just calmly observing them. Good.

Now, how to get these two humans to interact? Better start off with catching the stranger’s attention.

He began to meow loudly, not meaning anything in particular by it, just broadcasting his voice.

“Hmm?” Christophe hummed through his smoke, looking down at him. “What’s wrong now?”

Damien met his gaze, letting out another loud meow. He was quick to glance back at the stranger. Success! The blond was looking over at them now, brow furrowed. And sure enough, Christophe had followed Damien’s gaze and the two humans met each other’s eyes.

Excellent.

They held each other’s gaze for a few passing moments until…they just stopped. The stranger looked back at his book and Christophe back at the tree. Damien let out another meow, scratching at Christophe’s pant leg.

“What?” he sighed, giving his pet an exasperated look.

The cat only pawed again. How could he make him understand?

Hmm…perhaps a demonstration?

Damien tugged on his leash, urging Christophe to move over to the bench. If only they could talk to one another, then this could all flow much easier.

Unfortunately, Damien felt himself being picked up by his owner’s strong, calloused hands. “Non. Bad kitty,” he muttered, carrying him back to the tree, much to Damien’s frustration.

He was placed back down, Christophe crouching down in front of him and wagging his finger sternly. “Now you listen here, Damien. You’ve dragged me around all morning and I’ve put up with it. But we are not dragging strangers into your nonsense. Got it?”

Damien flicked his tail angrily, narrowing his eyes. He hissed, batting at the finger with his paw.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ human!

“Damien!” Christophe scolded. “Stop it! What’s gotten into you today?”

The black cat let out an angry meow. He turned to the stranger—

Gone. The bench was empty.

When? How? Why?

Then Damien was running, Christophe barely keeping a hole on the end of his leash. He sniffed at the ground, trying to find—there!

The blond and the dog were nearing the entrance.

No. Damien had planned too long and burned through an insane amount of energy today to just give up now. He had to see this through.

So, he ran. He could hear Christophe’s big clunking boots behind him.

When the cat reached the stranger, he made quick work, running around his legs, the leash and Christophe following. To finish the job, he rushed through his owner’s legs, then, stood to the side.

The scene that followed could only be described as awkward chaos. The blond was trying to not lose his balance, which meant he had to lean against Christophe. As for the latter, his eyes were wide and his mouth was stammering in horror.

“What the—”

“Ah, oh, shit!

“How did—get off me!”

“Je suis desole, mon chat, he—”

“What the bloody fuck do you think you’re—”

“Accident! I’m—”

And then, they went down.

Damien’s leash tugged hand and felt the leash choke him slightly. He hacked, knowing full well it was his own fault.

The blond was now on top of Christophe, the both of them appearing dizzy. The dog stood near, ears twitching with concern. When the two humans regained conscious thought, the blond was quick to scramble off the other, hands twisting to remove the leash, now wrapped around his ankles.

Damien’s owner seemed only terrified and embarrassed. He sat up, stammering, “I…I am so, so, so sorry. Oh, mon dieu, h-he’s been acting like such a brat today—”

The black cat’s right ear twitched in irritation. How dare he? He’d been busting his feline butt all morning for him. He glanced over to the dog who was peering at his master with concern.

“I think that’s quite enough,” the blond snapped, managing to remove the leash and toss it at the other man. He stood up, attempting to straighten his clothes out.

Christophe’s face crumpled.

And Damien suddenly realized what he’d done.

He’d pushed his owner into an uncomfortable position, specifically a social one. He’d interrupted his quiet time which was half of what kept Christophe from stressing out too much. And now, he’d embarrassed him in front of a stranger.

He _was_ a bad kitty.

As the stranger finished brushing invisible dirt off himself and reaching for his dog’s leash, Damien crept towards his master who looked like he was about to either cry or stick his head into the ground. The cat nuzzled against the back of his hand, hoping to express his apologies. He even gave the back of his hand, a few rare licks. Christophe glanced at him, staring at him for a moment. Then, he sighed, picking him up.

“You’re horrible,” he mumbled, yet stroked the cat’s head. “No treats for a week.”

After a moment, Damien could feel a pair of eyes on them.

The stranger hadn’t moved. He was watching the scene with a look of wonder and…smiling? It was faint, but still a smile. Christophe noticed it as well, his blush growing worse. He managed to stand, holding Damien in his arms.

“I am very sorry,” he apologized, voice shaky. “It was an accident…”

The blonde’s face softened a little more and he gave a nod. “Of course. It’s alright. Is he okay? Your cat?”

Christophe gave his own nod, stroking Damien’s head. “Yes…and he is very guilty. Aren’t you, petite demon?”

At the question, Damien didn’t answer, only nuzzling his face into the crook of Christophe’s elbow.

“…he’s guilty,” Christophe deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

Then, the blond laughed, covering his mouth in an attempt to hide the grin. And Christophe joined him, snickering slightly.

When their laughter died down, they were both shyly looking at one another.

“You were not hurt?” Christophe asked.

The other man shook his head. “Not at all. You?”

“Hit my tailbone hard, but it’ll be fine.”

Silence fell again.

“…well, umm…good luck with your naughty kitten.”

“Oui, merci. Umm…nice dog.”

The blond brightened at the compliment, giving his dog a pat on the head. “Pip’s a good boy.”

“Pip?”

The stranger chuckled. “I like Dicken’s work.”

“Oh?” Christophe replied. “That’s nice…it fits him.” He absentmindedly scratched Damien’s ears. “I felt like Damien fit this awful little prince.”

“He is a little devil, isn’t he?” the blond laughed.

Christophe chortled back. A beat passed before he said, “I’m Christophe, by the way. Seems stupid to only know each other’s pets’ names.”

The blond smiled shyly before holding out his hand. “Gregory.”

“Nice to meet you,” Damien’s owner replied, giving the hand a quick shake before returning it to Damien.

The cat listened closely, his ear twitching with interest. Had he…succeeded?

“…well, I’m afraid I do need to be somewhere so…” Gregory mumbled.

“Right, right, I should get ze little one home,” Christophe agreed.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” Gregory asked.

Christophe’s head shot back up in surprise. “I—oui! I mean, yes, yes, I will. Walking ze demon—ze cat! I mean—”

Gregory only smiled as he led his dog away, replying, “Brilliant.”

Christophe stood there for a long, long time. Then, he pulled Damien away from himself, holding him out and eying him up.

“…if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you planned that, petite demon.”

Damien blinked at him.

Then, his owner laughed, cuddling him back against him. “But I do know better. You may be smart, but you’re not that smart.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damien's plan takes flight as Gregory and Christophe grow closer.

Ever since that first meeting, Christophe had taken Damien to the park every other day, breaking their usual routine of twice a week. They often ran into Gregory and his dog, Pip, which led to the two owners conversing for a long time. Damien had all but confirmed that Gregory had changed his schedule to come to the park as often as possible since he knew the blond had only come their way twice a week previously.

Damien had no quarrel with that, though. If anything, he would vocally encourage it if the humans could understand him.

Christophe smiled more. He even laughed.

Damien’s goal was slowly being completed.

The conversations had started off with general politeness. ‘How are you?’ and ‘Fine, could be better’ were commonly said. Then, as one week turned into two and so on, the two men found themselves walking side by side, holding their respective pets’ leashes. Recently, they’d even started sitting on a bench together, rambling about this and that.

“Non, non, I never really cared for the opera. Too much yowling,” Christophe said one day as he was seated on one of the benches, Damien curled up in his lap.

“What about the ballet?” Gregory asked beside him, Pip lying at his feet contently.

“I have not been to one of those,” Christophe replied. “It seemed too, well…”

“Girly?” Gregory supplied with a small smirk.

“Non—well, oui,” Christophe answered, blushing a bit.

Gregory chuckled, giving his shoulder a pat. “Oh, it’s okay. You should, though! Such dancing takes a great deal of skill and anyone can admire that.” He took his hand away, realizing he’d allowed it to lay against Christophe’s green jacket too long. “Besides,” he continued, clearing his throat, “It’s a form of entertainment that’s practically universal.”

“Perhaps, but—” Christophe shrugged. “I have no one to go with. I’d feel stupid all by myself.”

Gregory bit into his lower lip before blurting out, “What about me?”

Christophe’s brow rose. “You would want to go with me?”

“Sure,” Gregory said, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “I mean, I adore the ballet anyways, so I always enjoy going when the opportunity arises.”

“O-Okay,” Christophe said, fingers twisting into Damien’s fur.

“I believe _Don Quixote_ is coming up,” Gregory offered. “I think you might like that. It’s not as ‘girly’.”

His use of heavily emphasized air quotes made Christophe give a chuckle. “Oui. Sounds great.”

Gregory smiled. “I can order the tickets, then?”

“Oui, I can pay you back at our next meeting.”

“Splendid!”

Damien squeaked one eye open, an ear flickering.

Going somewhere other than the park? Interesting.

After hearing the two launch into another discussion about the entertainment industry, Damien hopped off Christophe’s lap. He did a long stretch on the ground, the end of his leash still gripped in Christophe’s hand.

Pip’s head popped up at Damien’s arrival. He sniffed at the air in front of Damien, his tail lightly wagging against the paved walkway.

Damien wrinkled his nose after his stretch was finished. _You are aware of personal space, yes?_

_Oh, indeed! And I’m happy to be in yours!_

While friendly and non-threatening, Gregory’s dog was not very intelligent.

Damien glanced up at the two owners before turning his attention back to Pip. _What are your thoughts on this union?_

_Master Gregory and Mister Dirt?_

If Damien was capable of it, he would have rolled his eyes. _Yes._

_Mister Dirt smells nice!_

Damien lifted his paw up to give it a few cleaning licks. _I meant what do you think of their relationship?_

 _Whatever do you mean?_ The dog leaned down to begin licking at his crotch.

_Are you unfamiliar with human mating?_

_They’re mating?_ The dog glanced back at Damien. _But they haven’t even sniffed each other yet._

_Humans don’t commonly sniff each other._

_Really?_

Damien lifted a leg to scratch at his ear. _No. They press their lips together. And do a lot of touching._

Pip looked up at their two owners, Gregory in the middle of giving Christophe’s arm a friendly touch. _Hm. I guess you might be right._

_I usually am._

Damien then felt a shifting from the bench, turning his head to see their owners now standing.

“I will see you Saturday, oui?”

“Yep! As usual.”

Awkward, yet genuine smiles were exchanged.

Soon, the two parties were heading in their opposite directions. Upon glancing up at his master, Damien could not miss the uncharacteristic, yet love-smitten grin on Christophe’s face.

***

Damien enjoyed having the apartment all to himself. He could wander along the bookshelves and countertops without the sound of angry French shrieks trying to stop him. He had the opportunity to roll all over every inch of Christophe’s bed without being kicked off. Sometimes, if he had enough time, he could get one of the cabinets open to find his treats.

Tonight, however, he wasn’t interested in living it up. He wasn’t sure when to expect his owner home since he had no idea how long a ‘ballet’ lasted and seeing as the man had been a nervous wreck before leaving that evening, just barely remembering to put his shoes on, Damien felt worried. After all, his owner wasn’t the type to go out all that often. Like Damien, he preferred the quiet and despised crowded areas.

His master had gone far out of his comfort zone tonight.

As he laid curled up in front of the television that Christophe left on for him whenever he went out for the night, the door lock made its familiar clicking sound.

Damien shot up in excitement, ears perking. He was soon on his feet, scurrying towards the door.

The door opened and Christophe came through…along with Gregory in tow.

Damien’s tail flicked curiously. He hadn’t expected that.

“Sorry for the mess,” Christophe said as he walked inside.

“Oh, no, no, it’s lovely!” Gregory insisted, glancing around the apartment before his eyes landed on the black cat in front of them. “Hi, Damien.”

Damien crept over to Gregory, sniffing his shoes politely in greeting, before disappearing into Christophe’s room.

“Mm, perhaps he doesn’t like me after all?”

“Non, he just likes his privacy. He stays out of the way when company is over.”

Damien jumped onto Christophe’s bed, finding a comfy spot and snuggling down. He still listened to the conversation as his eyes shut.

“Go ahead, make yourself at home. I’ll make the tea.” The noise from the television stopped and Damien could hear the remote dropping to the table.

“Alright.” A small chuckle. “I’m still shocked how much you seemed to enjoy the show. I feared you were going to be bored.”

“It _was_ something, like you said,” Christophe replied form the kitchen. “I’m glad you recommended it. And thanks for coming with me. I would have gotten lost in that big theater.”

“The ushers could have helped you.”

“I prefer you.”

There was a slight pause, followed by a cough from Christophe.

“Anyways,” Damien’s owner mumbled, footsteps moving across the apartment, “Here’s your tea.”

“Thank you,” came the quiet answer.

Silence reigned for the next few minutes. It had grown so quiet, Damien found himself drifting off to sleep before he heard one of the cups being placed on the coffee table.

“Well,” Gregory said, clearing his throat, “I should head on home.”

“Right, yeah,” Christophe agreed readily.

More footsteps followed, presumably to the door.

“Uh…hey, Chris?”

“Oui?”

“Do you, umm…I mean, would you…shite.”

“Gregory?”

“Look, if what I’m about to ask makes things awkward, we can just forget I ever said it.”

Damien couldn’t hear if Christophe made any sort of reply.

“Would you…want to…maybe go out on a date with me?”

No answer.

“Fuck, umm, look, we can ignore that. Listen, I’ll just head—”

A slight fumble followed.

“Greg…I would really, _really_ like that.”

“You would?”

“Oui. Very much.”

Gregory gave a laugh. “Great. Stupendous. Brilliant.”

Christophe chuckled lightly. “Oui, yes.”

“Well, I, umm…shall we talk about this tomorrow? At the park?”

“Oui.”

After a few soft noises, the door shut. Damien leapt from the bed, heading back into the main room. He found Christophe there, a hand pressed to the door, a wide smile of disbelief plastered across his face.

Damien padded over to him, taking a seat on the ground and blinking up at him.

Christophe glanced down before taking the cat into his arms, giving him a gentle hug.

“Ma petite demon, I don’t care what they say about black cats. You are a lucky little boy.”

***

Weeks later, Damien found himself in an awkward situation.

Their walks to the park had begun to shift slightly. Nothing changed much for Damien and Pip, but Gregory and Christophe walked even closer together now.

Fingers grazing until their hands were intertwined comfortably. Feet stroking in a subtle gesture as they sat at their bench. Cheeks glowing with pinkness as they laughed.

Even Pip, as oblivious as the poor mutt could be, noticed the change.

Damien, who had been busy observing a stray butterfly for five minutes, was interrupted by Pip padding over to him, his tail wagging excitedly.

_Mister Demon! Mister Demon!_

The black cat turned as his butterfly fluttered off, spooked by the appearance of a large, panting dog. _Damien. What is it, Pip?_

_They’re doing the thing you said! The thing, the thing!_

Curiously, Damien glanced up and, to the dog’s credit, Christophe’s lips were softly attached to Gregory’s, their eyes both shut during such a tender moment.

 _I told you._ Damien placed his head back down on the ground, comfortable against the cold pavement.

_Are they going to have puppies now? Oh, I would love to play with their puppies!_

_Pip, humans don’t have puppies. They have other humans._

_Oh. Right._

_Plus, they are both male. Human males cannot have other humans together._

The dog appeared sad, his tail no longer swishing. _Oh. I so hoped for more playmates._

Returning to the earlier awkward situation, about a week after that very conversation, Christophe had apparently invited Gregory over to his place for dinner.

Which, for some reason, included bringing the dog.

“Easy, boy. Easy there.” Gregory stroked his dog’s head, keeping a tight hold on his leash while Pip curiously inspected the apartment, sniffing every single item within his reach.

Damien had taken shelter on the kitchen counter, his nose wrinkled at the sight of the large creature bumbling all through the area that he called home.

As for Christophe, he appeared the most bothered. Not angry, mind you, but tense.

His master had never liked dogs. As a child, Damien had learned, he’d had a paralyzing fear of them. He’d grown out of the severity of the fear, but still distrusted them.

He hadn’t had much of a problem with Pip since the dog, for all his cluelessness, was well-behaved and every time he’d met the dog, it was in an open area. Damien suspected that, whether consciously or not, the openness left Christophe a way to flee from the creature if need be.

Here, in his tiny, little apartment, things were more tight than usual and Pip’s excitement over the new location was making the Frenchman’s hair stand on end. Christophe stood next to the counter, finally taking notice of Damien. He picked him up, cradling the cat in his arms on instinct.

“Come on, there you go,” Gregory crooned to his pet, the dog glancing up to pant happily. “Can he lay on the couch?” Gregory asked, looking up at Christophe.

“Oui—wait, is he going to shed?”

“He’s a dog, Christophe.”

Silence.

“I’ll clean it up before I leave, alright?”

A reluctant nod led to the beast hopping up onto the couch, right on Damien’s favorite blanket, of course. The dog found his place after a few turns, Gregory unhooking the leash so the dog could lie peacefully.

“Dinner?” Gregory asked.

Christophe nodded, placing Damien into a little bed near his armchair. The cat got settled, hearing plates clattering from the kitchen and chairs scraping across the floor.

He was soon lulled by the sound of the two owners speaking, his eyes slipping shut. Before he knew it, he awoke, after hearing a door shutting loudly. His head popped up in confusion, ears twitching. He stepped out of his bed, pausing for a stretch, before turning his attention to the dog.

Pip was awake as well, now seated in the tiny hallway that led to the bathroom and Christophe’s bedroom. His tail lightly hit the floor, head tilted to the side.

Damien glanced at the kitchen, now bare of any sign of life. He padded over to Pip, hearing shuffling sounds from his master’s bedroom.

_What’s happening?_

_They sound like they are having a jolly good time together!_

Damien’s tail flicked slightly, not understanding what the dog meant.

Then, he heard a low, hard groan from the bedroom that sounded far too much like his master’s voice.

If cats could blush, Damien may have done just that.

 _A jolly good time, indeed._ Damien moved away from the hallway, jumping onto the couch to reclaim his blanket. He snuggled into it happily (ignoring the bits of golden fur scattered everywhere), only for his pleasant moment to broken by another loud, even more guttural moan.

And so, the awkward situation began.

Damien tried to drown out the noises as best he could. He buried his face as deep into the couch as he could without getting stuck. He tried to hide behind Christophe’s desk that was parallel to the bedroom. He even attempted to distract himself with playtime, despite that he was no longer a kitten, but alas, nothing worked.

If anything, the sounds got progressively louder. Breathy cries and gasps from what Damien assumed was Gregory and harsh growls from Christophe filled the tiny apartment. Even worse, a strange creaking noise had joined their vocals.

With a sickly feeling, Damien realized it was the sound of Christophe’s mattress.

Then, Pip started to bark.

Damien was up in a flash from where he’d curled up in his corner, rushing over to where the dog hadn’t yet moved from his spot. _What’s wrong?_

Pip only continued to bark, seeming to not hear Damien over the sound of his own loud barking.

The sounds from the bedroom stopped and about a minute later, Gregory appeared. In Christophe’s brown robe. His cheeks red as cherries.

“What’s wrong, mate?” the blond asked his dog, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair.

Pip was suddenly happy, giving his master’s hand a lick in greeting. Even though Gregory couldn’t understand Pip’s reply, Damien heard it.

_You and Mister Dirt sounded like you were having so much fun! I wanted to play, too! Oh, can’t I play, Master?_

Such a stupid dog.

Gregory pressed a sweet kiss to the dog’s snout, saying, “Give us a few minutes, alright, sweetie?”

Then, he disappeared back inside the room, shutting the door. After a few long minutes, Damien could hear a few more sounds, but they died down quickly. Then, Gregory and Christophe both appeared.

Christophe had a hazy look in his eyes and one arm was wrapped around Gregory, firmly cupping his ass. His smile was relaxed as he nuzzled his face against Gregory’s, the blond smiling with a soft giggle.

Gregory then stepped aside, patting his robe covered thigh, calling out, “Come on, boy. Come on!”

Pip took the call with delighted ease, rushing into the bedroom. Damien stood there curiously as Gregory walked back inside. Christophe, who now stood naked, glanced at Damien and gestured for him to come closer.

“Come on, ma petite demon. Bedtime.”

Bedtime? Now? With company?

Damien supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, but he hesitantly padded into the room. He made his way onto the bed, only to come face to face with the panting Retriever. He found a place at the corner of the bed, watching as Gregory and Christophe got back into the bed, Gregory stripping off his robe and Christophe shutting off the lamplight.

“He’s not going to bark his head off again, right?” Christophe commented wryly, tugging the blanket around him.

“He just wanted to be included,” Gregory replied, giving Pip’s ears an affectionate scratch before settling down next to Christophe.

The two wrapped their arms around each other, embracing with an ease that Damien had never seen his master represent. Christophe pressed a kiss to Gregory’s forehead, receiving a nuzzle to his jaw from Gregory.

Damien laid his head down, near Christophe’s feet. Slowly, his eyes shut again, ignoring the stench of pheromones in the bedroom. As he drifted off, he idly wondered if this was going to be a regular occurrence.

After all, hadn’t that been his plan from the start?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out this chapter! I'm hoping to at some point write maybe one more chapter of this! I hope you've enjoyed this fluffy (see, it's fluffy cause of fur and cute shit) adventure! Leave a comment! It motivates me to write more!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! I'm planning on making a series of these alternate universes for some of my favorite characters!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and want another chapter, I'd be happy to add more to the story! Please leave a comment!!!
> 
> (And yes, this was entirely based off that scene in 101 Dalmations)


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